Her family had hosted a feast in his honor for which they had taken weeks to prepare: with braised capons and lobster sausages and all sorts of delicious spiced stews her mother had made from secret recipes. When she slipped off of it her head started to bob, filled with air. She patted John's head with her palm, its surface appealingly fuzzy. ” “Why did you keep her all of these years? What good can it do?” “She created me, Lucia. I’m not half smart enough for the West End. CHAPTER XXVI. From then on he was Ruth's dog.
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